


The Best Christmas Ever

by Cat



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, nothing graphic, unless you count a smooch between two men graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5417534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat/pseuds/Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil share a moment while being snowed in on Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Christmas Ever

Somewhere in the frozen tundra that can  
be Minnesota, particularly the North...  
December 24

 

“There. Perimeter secured.”

Clint Barton nodded and watched as his companion secured the cabin door as best he could against the driving wind and snow. They’d been more than a little lucky to not only survive the quinjet crash but to stumble their way through the darkness and nasty weather to find this serviceable, but pretty damn rickety, old hunting cabin.

“Cup of cocoa, sir?”

The glow of the fire highlighted the bruises on Phil Coulson’s face as he gingerly settled himself before the fire. Clint could tell by the way the older man moved that Coulson had been injured a bit more than he’d initially admitted to. Clint thought about calling him on it, but thought about what he’d do if he’d taken the brunt of the impact and decided to watch and wait. For now.

He held a tin cup out and watched as Coulson accepted it gratefully, taking a moment to wrap his hands around the object and bask in the warmth. He then looked into it and back up at Clint, curiousity shining in his eyes. “Hot chocolate?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Should I ask where you came up with hot chocolate?” Coulson shuddered slightly and let his gaze travel around the run down environment that no cheery fire could improve. 

Clint chuckled and brought his tin cup to his lips. “Probably not.” He took a drink and savored the warm beverage as it traveled down his throat. Had to admit, he was now pretty damn glad he’d shoved those Swiss Miss packets in the backpack. 

“Ever the man of mystery, Agent Barton. Ever the man of...ooo, is that a hint of mint I detect in this?”

“Yes, sir.”

Coulson smiled his approval and took another sip of his drink. “Nice.” 

They sat in companionable silence for some time, the sounds of the storm outside mingling with the groans and protests of the rotting wood that was presently providing them shelter.

“Only thing we need now are some lights, a few elves, and maybe a sprig of mistletoe.”

Clint snickered slightly. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of Christmas, sir.” He shifted position and stretched as he studied his companion who seemed to take an inordinate amount of pleasure in holding and gingerly sipping the hot chocolate given him.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Barton.”

“I’m sure.” He bent over and felt the relieving crack of a vertebrae in his back. Better. He was going to have to get up and fully stretch soon to ease his aching muscles, but after the hike through the snow to get here...his ass was appreciating the sit down. A lot.

“Just like there’s a lot about you I don’t know.”

Clint wasn’t quite sure what to say to that one. It sounded almost suggestive. But nah...couldn’t be. Coulson didn’t swing that way. Or...did he? 

A heated flush swept across the archer’s face and the temperature in the room suddenly went up by a few hundred degrees. He looked away and pretended to busy himself sorting through the contents of the backpack he’d brought along - anything to distract him from the thoughts that were now in his head. He cleared his throat and forced a slight smile. “So...another Christmas in the field. Doesn’t this get...doesn’t this get old for you, sir?”

Coulson’s expression didn’t waver. It rarely did. He was far too good at concealing his emotions, just like Fury. It was next to impossible to get a bead on those two sometimes. Like tonight with the suggestive comment. If it was even suggestive. Or just Clint letting his imagination run away with him like one of those damned dreams he’d had lately.

“Working on Christmas? Nah. Used to it. Prefer it actually. And you might as well call me Phil. Looks like we’re going to be here a while and...I gotta be honest with you, I’m getting kind of ‘sir-ed’ out here.”

Clint felt the muscles in his shoulders relax slightly. “You got it, s...uh, Phil.” He looked around the cabin again. “Definitely doesn’t look like Christmas.”

“So you do celebrate Christmas.”

“I never said that.”

“Didn’t have to. You have that look on your face.”

Clint frowned and sighed. “That’s my resting face.”

“Uh huh. Tell you what, you tell me yours I’ll tell you mine.”

A slight chill passed through Clint at those words. He was pretty damned sure that Coulson knew about his feelings. It’d been an awkward six months working around the older man once Clint had realized just how much he’d grown to respect and deeply care for Phil. He’d always considered himself a halfway decent actor as far as things like that went, could pull an undercover gig at the drop of a hat and be fairly believable in the process. So he assumed that Coulson was like everyone else and had no idea of the deep...interest...Clint had in him.

That earlier remark and this one made Clint doubt it all of a sudden. 

He knows. The little shit knows and he’s playing me. 

“Beg pardon?” That penetrating gaze was distracting. Clint swallowed and tried harder to maintain as nonchalant an expression as was possible. 

“Christmas. Why don’t you celebrate it? You know, the lights and tree...let me guess, it’s the elves and Santa isn’t it? You know, I’ve always found the Big Guy to be suspicious too. I mean seriously, it’s impossible to go around the world in one night...even on a quinjet. That would take some serious recalibration of the...”

Clint’s brain was slow to process what his body was doing as he quickly cleared the slight distance between them and brazenly planted a full kiss onto Coulson’s lips.

This can go one of two ways. Okay, maybe three ways. He could kiss me back, he could clock me upside the head and verbally tear me a new one, or he could laugh. I can deal with two of the three, but if he laughs...

Time seemed to stand still as Clint drew back. He forced himself to look into Coulson’s eyes and waited to see what the other man would do.

“Because I never had someone like you to share it with.” He rasped after an uneasy silence. “That’s why I haven’t done the whole Christmas thing.”

The silence continued and Clint felt completely stupid. He started to move to get up, but stopped when a firm hand clasped his arm and drew him back.

“When we get back, we’ll remedy that in the right way. Only...I get to play Santa. Got it?” The impish grin on Phil’s face and the gleam in his eyes revealed he was serious about the intent.

Clint laughed and leaned closer. “Anything you want...sir.”

Their lips met again and what started off as a pain in the ass Christmas earlier turned out to be one of the best. 

–Fin--


End file.
